


I Need Your Touch, Don't Need Your Love

by Manna_di_San_Nicola



Series: That's The Power Of My Glorious Goodies [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Character, Barebacking, Bruises, Casual Sex, Counter Sex, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Finger Sucking, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, Id Fic, M/M, Nipple Licking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Sexual Humor, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna_di_San_Nicola/pseuds/Manna_di_San_Nicola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Businessman to businessman, Grog proposes an arrangement to Gilmore. Title from 'Animal' by Def Leppard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need Your Touch, Don't Need Your Love

The ending, when it came, was like something out of a child’s story book. The brave heroes of Vox Machina toppled the evil of the Chroma Conclave and led Tal’Dorei back to serenity and bliss. Even the love story was picture perfect – shadowy Vax’ildan and blithe Keyleth, a paladin and a princess, walking off into the sunset.

Shaun Gilmore’s happy ending was to be a bit more unconventional. 

As it turned out, it was incredibly easy to get back on your feet and then some when you had imperial sanctions and were known throughout Tal’Dorei. People in Whitestone called him a hero when they saw him, cheered his name – that was dizzying. The Empress knew him by name – that went beyond dizzying into some ailment only known to the Feywild or the Far Realm. He was opening new storefronts and making expansions on the ones he had so frequently that he barely had a moment to breathe. 

Even if he’d had any bitterness about his story not including a romance or passionate affair, Gilmore had no time to allow himself to feel it. So he could, one hoped, be forgiven for taking a bit of time to notice that a handsome prince (or, well, Bearded King) had arrived upon his doorstep shortly before closing time. Furthermore, it wasn’t as though his friends over at the newly reinstated Greyskull Keep never popped in to visit. Why should he have thought Grog’s presence was any different?

Though, he had to admit, it was peculiar for the easily distracted Grog to wait so patiently for him to be done with all of his customers.

“Grog, you darling boy, I swear you get taller every time I see you!” Gilmore only attended to pat him on the shoulder, but he’d barely blinked before those impossibly muscular arms were around him and twirling him. “Oh, my, we’re enthusiastic today!”

“Yeah!” Grog smiled bright as a Light spell and tickled Gilmore’s cheek with his full beard. “You should have been there, Gilmore – it was so cool! We found Ripley...” Gilmore winced at that – he’d never met the ‘good’ doctor, but Cassandra had told him horror stories. “... and she had this fuckin’ suit of armor on, but it wasn’t a suit of armor, and it had these spinny guns that went ‘blam blam blam’ and we called it a Gundam because it was like, ‘GUN! DAMN!’ Get it?” 

Gilmore didn’t bother holding himself aloof, but let himself get caught in Grog’s enthusiasm. “It sounds terrifying! Truly a foe worth Grog Strongjaw!”

He preened at that, his exceptional and perpetually exposed pectorals twitching. “It put up a good fight, but I’m pretty amazing, so...” Then, with a glint in his obsidian eyes, Grog flexed his arm and displayed three aged-looking round scars that had no doubt been painful wounds before Pike’s love and care. “And it gave me a souven... a so... A present!” 

Gilmore fanned himself, in his element with dramatics. “Battle scars to go down in legend! You’ll have to fight off ladies from every corner of Exandria!” He chuckled, waving to Sherri as she left for the day and ignoring how she shook her head at his comments. 

The smile was a bit more devious this time - Gilmore would have called it cunning on another face. “There’s more than enough Grog to go around. That’s why I’m here, actually.” Gilmore didn’t quite follow, but he leaned on his sales counter to listen to whatever logic Grog was about to display. Somehow, that made him seem even more imposing, like he was looming over Gilmore and ready to cover him with his body in an instant. Gilmore coughed a bit, to clear his head as much as his throat. “Look, everybody likes you, Gilmore. Short of Pike, you’re basically the best person we’ve ever met and everybody thinks it’s total bullshit that Vax jerked you around with his ‘we’re over but let’s still flirt’ bit.” 

Gilmore sighed. “That’s... very nice of everyone, but I’m a big boy. Besides, I’m happy for Vax and Keyleth.”

“See? You’re amazing! That’s why we should have sex.”

Gilmore’s brain went blank. Clearly, someone had just cast an illusion or modified his memory. Magic had to be involved because the world suddenly didn’t make sense. 

“Why we should what?”

“Have sex. Fuck. Play hide the purple worm. I’m real good at it, Gilmore – lots of ladies have said so.” 

Gilmore had no doubt of that, even if the majority of those ladies had been sex workers. Grog wasn’t intelligent, but his brain and body seemed specifically crafted for satisfying every lust he had. That didn’t change his extreme befuddlement at the proposition. “I’m not a lady, Grog.” Maybe he wasn’t far off with the magic theory. “Did you by chance have any conversations with strangers that made you decide to come here and make this offer?”

“Nope!” Well, at least Grog didn’t seem surprised or offended by the insinuation that he’d been compelled – assuming he hadn’t missed it entirely. “Oh, I even got this note from Pike when I told her cause she said you might say that!” After a few seconds of shuffling through his omnipresent Bag of Holding, Grog did indeed pull out a note with Pike Trickfoot’s handwriting on it.

Hi, Gilmore: I cast a Greater Restoration on Grog before he left because I knew you’d think he was cursed if he wasn’t joking. I also told him I’d be very upset if he was joking, so you’re safe. Have fun! See you later! Love, Pike~

There was also a heart drawn after her name. Gilmore had his doubts that Pike would be complicit in a mean-spirited prank and it wasn’t as though Grog could write, never mind forge his best friend’s handwriting. Of course, that meant that Grog was sincerely offering to have sex with him for whatever reason and that Pike was fully aware and had given her blessing.

That option held its own set of problems.

“I’m sure you don’t mean any offense, Grog, but I hardly need your pity - especially not in this area.”

Grog looked confused at the very idea. “Gilmore, I don’t really do pity. You’re awesome, so I want to make you feel good with my junk. That’s who I am.” He shrugged and raised his meaty hands – hands Gilmore could suddenly imagine all too well on his body. It wasn’t as though he’d never thought of it – unlike Grog’s torso, he wasn’t made of stone. “I’m not complicated.”

“And yet you’re full of surprises.” Gilmore ran his hand down his face, twirling his braided goatee as he considered. “Grog, forgive me – I’ve had a long few weeks and you’ve caught me a bit off-guard. Could we perhaps hold this conversation at a later date?”

At this, Grog winced. “I’m not really the date type – strictly sexy times. I mean, you’re great, but--”

Gilmore raised a hand to kill that marauding beast as quickly as possible. “How about this – if I decide that you and I should have entirely strings-free sex, I will let you know with a Sending spell. It wouldn’t be a ‘drop everything and come to me for sex’ message, but a general invitation when you have a moment. All right?” His day had been much too busy and exhausting for something like this to blindside him – it was just unfair. 

Thankfully, Grog accepted this with a nod like they had a pact sealed with blood. “All right.” Then he put his hand out. “It’s a deal.” Gilmore just stared at it like it was a Hand of Glory for a few moments, but Grog held firm. Clearly, no-strings sex was no laughing matter. So Gilmore broke and shook back, trying not to think about the strength of Grog’s grip or the calluses on his fingers. Then he left with a smile like it was just another day at the market. “See you, Gilmore!”

Gilmore collapsed on his bed barely five seconds after his door closed. What the Hells had just happened?

The following week did nothing to clear things up for him. Grog didn’t appear at all or, when he did, it was with another member of Vox Machina and everything was strictly business (still friendly, but purchase-oriented). Had it been an illusion after all? No, Sherri had found the note from Pike, though she hadn’t managed to pry from him what it had been about. 

He knew Sherri suspected something was amiss, though. He was barely able to hide the way thinking about the offer consumed his thoughts throughout the business day. Then, at night... he’d been too exhausted to touch himself after Grog had left, but he’d had no such problem every night of the week afterwards. Fisting his cock with a tight grip to try and replicate Grog’s strength, fitting nearly his entire slicked hand inside of himself as if it could match those thick fingers - it was agonizing. 

At the end of that week, covered in his own release, Gilmore gave the offer the thought it deserved. What would he lose from such an arrangement? Vax’ildan had no claim over him and no right to offense if he ever found out. Similarly, no one had claim over Grog save Pike, which was a different sort of claim and she had given her approval regardless. It wouldn’t hurt anyone – it might even help him. He sighed, unable to believe he was actually considering it. 

A Prestidigitation had him cleaned up and a second flick of his wrist sent the Sending away before he could reconsider. He hoped Grog wasn’t asleep when the spell whispered its message into his mind: My dear Grog, consider me on board with your offer. Whenever you want me, take me. – Gilmore. Strictly speaking, ‘signing’ the message was just a waste of one of the twenty-five words maximum the Sending allowed, but he had been raised with manners. 

Immediately after... well, immediately after, Gilmore fell asleep, but the next morning was spent obsessing over the wording or whether it had been too late and the offer was rescinded. Had he been too forward – would Grog literally show up out of the blue and just pin him down, claiming him like a beast? Would Gilmore mind if he did?

Then Grog walked through the door, just as they were about to close. Sherri looked back and forth between them suspiciously. “It’s all right, Sherri. Go on home.” That did little to soften her glare at Grog, but she did leave, locking the door behind her. When Gilmore turned back to Grog, he had pulled a tattered-looking bouquet of flowers from the Bag of Holding. 

He couldn’t meet Gilmore’s eyes as he rubbed the back of his bald head. “Pike said just because we aren’t date people doesn’t mean I shouldn’t treat you nice when we’re not having sex.” Gilmore tried not to laugh at that, since Grog was clearly making an effort, but it was simply adorable.

“Thank you, Grog.” He took the flowers gingerly and placed them in a vase on the sales counter. For a few moments, the pair stood in silence. Gilmore broke it. “How exactly should we do this?”

A shrug. “How do you want to do this?”

“It’s been a long time since someone’s asked me that.” Gilmore tapped his fingers on the counter as he thought. “Perhaps we should discuss what we don’t want and move from there.” At Grog’s second shrug, he began. “In my experience, men of the muscular and combat-oriented sort tend to be squeamish about being on the receiving end of penetration.” A blank expression. “Beefy men don’t like butt stuff.”

Grog’s senses returned at that. “Oh! That’s dumb.” Gilmore was inclined to agree, but people wanted what they wanted. “Nah, plenty of ladies have stuck stuff up my butt – fingers, their own natural bits, fancy toys that look like bits. Most folks prefer riding the front to the back, but it’s your call.” 

That was... good to know. “Let’s stick to what you’re used to, then.” He took a step forward, his nose barely at Grog’s sternum. He watched as the heat of his breath struck Grog’s nipples, making them pebble and peak the way cold would on a human, then he looked up. “Are you used to kissing, Grog?” 

He nodded, proud, and smiled. “Well, not lips so much. But...” Grog leaned in, his mouth attaching itself to Gilmore’s throat and sucking at the skin like it was a delicious pear. He left a trail of little bites, barely more than nibbles, on Gilmore’s neck and worked down to his collarbone. His hands tugged Gilmore’s top apart. “I love getting my mouth on a nice pair of tits.” 

The skin of Gilmore’s chest went hot even before Grog’s tongue went to work. It curled over the peaked nubs of his nipples, flicked at them, and his hands... Oh, his hands started kneading Gilmore’s chest. For a second, he tried to keep from moaning. But, then, just as persuasive as it had been the first time, the thought came to him again.

Fuck it.

“Is that okay, Gilmore? If I call them tits? I don’t think you’re a lady or nothing. I mean, unless you are?”

Of course, then he couldn’t moan quite so loudly because he was busy chuckling. “I’m not a woman, Grog, but a little feminization between friends never hurt anyone.” The lights were on, but no one was home. What a sweet thing he was. “Suck on my tits, big boy. Get them nice and wet, just like my cunt will be.”

That did the trick. 

In between slurps and suckles, Grog let out his own share of filth. “Yeah... Gotta fuck you right, Gilmore... Gonna fill you up with my dick and make you scream for it...” 

“Big words, considering you still have your pants on.” He raised an eyebrow, daring Grog to do as his message had demanded and take him. 

“Now, see, I was trying to be all nice and stuff, give you time to brace yourself, but you had to be mouthy.” In the moment Gilmore opened his mouth to tell Grog to gag him with his dick if he protested his commentary so, he instead slid his enormous fingers in. “Slick ‘em up. You’ll need a lot.” Gilmore let himself drool on the thick digits, leaning forward to take them deeper – he had a spell to lubricate himself, but why ruin the game? “Yeah, love how eager for it you are... If you’d been nice, you could have had my dick in your hot mouth, but no...” 

Gilmore scraped his teeth over the pad of Grog’s finger just a touch and locked eyes with him, reprimanding him without words for still having pants on.

The bastard smirked. He started sliding his fingers in and out, making Gilmore chase them like a hungry puppy. Meanwhile, his free hand worked at his breeches, tugging it apart like he did to Gilmore’s top. 

As a man prone to dramatics, Gilmore knew how rare it was for a man to live up to self-aggrandizing (especially when his penis was involved). Seeing Grog bared to the elements made his eyes go wide and the fingers pop out of his mouth. He would need a lot. “By the gods, Grog, why do you bother carrying other weapons when you have that greatsword between your legs?” Quickly as he could manage, he looked over his shoulder and muttered his charm, sighing at the sudden feeling of slickness. 

Which deity would listen to his hopes that the spell would be enough? 

The hand that had just been in Gilmore’s mouth trailed wet fingers down the thick shaft. He watched, nearly entranced, at the way slick clear liquid pulsed out at Grog’s touch before he gripped it like he would any other club and smeared the mess up and down. The shine of pre-come strangely made it less imposing for Gilmore – it was a reminder that that thing, enormous and solid, was alive and not carved marble Grog intended to fuck him with. Perhaps that would make it hurt less.

Perhaps.

“Gilmore, we don’t have to, like, full fuck if you don’t want. You wouldn’t be the first to back out, no shame.” The words were sweet, reassuring and understanding, but the way Grog didn’t stop stroking himself... the way he smirked... oh, it was a dare, was it? 

“Ah, that’s your play, hmm? Show off and let the girls run scared, build up a legend without ever doing anything?” Gilmore stepped right up to Grog, belly to abdominals statues would envy, and put his own hand under Grog’s. He almost broke when his hand could only cup one of Grog’s balls, but the snort of hot breath he got reinvigorated him. “I may be a mage, Grog, but I still know it doesn’t matter how big your weapon is if you don’t know how to use it.”

A flash of teeth before the animal pounced. 

Gilmore had barely blinked before he found himself bent over his well-polished new sales counter. He could feel himself getting sticky as pre-come flowed out onto the counter and his stomach hair. By the gods, he’d have to use every spell slot he had cleaning himself up. The thought wasn’t an unpleasant one. Large hands ripped his lower dressings into shreds and then squeezed his exposed ass, smacking it just to watch the flesh jiggle. 

“Ah!”

He could feel the weight of Grog’s cock between his cheeks, dripping onto his skin, marking him. He tried to shove backwards, slip it into himself, but no luck. He let out a few pants, feverish like he was back in Marquet, parched. Dying.

When Grog finally thrust just the tip of himself in, it was like Gilmore no longer had room in his body for air. Every inch more was a new level of the Hells... no, of the Abyss – infinite. 

“You’re so tight, Gilmore! I love it!” The hands moved from his ass to his shoulders. All that phenomenal strength worked to keep him still as Grog slid more and more dick deeper into his ass. He let out a moan, ragged and thrilled, as the stone-like flesh dragged against the pleasure spot within him. It was so large that it couldn’t help but hit there just by existing. 

Then, an eternity later, it was in. Completely in, filling Gilmore like he was a damn scabbard. 

Foggy from bliss, Gilmore didn’t notice Grog’s hands had moved until one was working its way under him, pressing into his belly. 

“Holy shit! I can feel me through your tummy!” 

He sounded so pleased with himself, not smug, but genuinely thrilled at the discovery. Gilmore would have called it child-like, but the thought disturbed him too much when he could nearly taste Grog’s dick in the back of his throat. So, instead, he laughed. 

The laugh transformed into a pleased purr when Grog’s other hand tugged at his hair just once, like it was a test. He rolled his hips towards Grog’s, following the pull, trying to tease him into moving.

It worked.

Gilmore’s knees, jelly that they were, barely felt it when they slammed into the wood of his counter from the force of Grog’s thrusting. The glass of his displays rattled and shook and he barely heard it over his own voice, screaming, “Yes! Yes! YES!!” The rest of them became slick as Gilmore’s pre-come soaked belly from the sweat beading and dripping from their foreheads, their chests. Sometimes, Grog leaned forward, barely interrupting his fucking to lick some up, taste Gilmore right at his throat. 

A display fell off the counter. Maybe it shattered, but Gilmore couldn’t have confirmed it one way or the other with a knife at his throat. He hadn’t felt such fire inside him in years.

His hands were so slippery that gripping the counter became impossible. So Grog gripped his wrists instead. He laughed again at the tightness – he’d never be able to explain the bruises to Sherri (among other things). But, honestly, who cared? There were perks to being one’s own employer.

When Gilmore’s eyes fluttered against his will, he realized that he was coming. He hadn’t even touched himself – he couldn’t recall if that had ever happened before. He couldn’t recall much, in all honesty. Appropriately (and he thought the jab with the utmost affection), Grog seemed to have fucked his brains out. 

But Grog himself wasn’t done yet. No, he was just beginning, if the way he flipped Gilmore over to fuck him on his back was any indication. Ah, to be young and full of stamina. Or perhaps it was a barbarian thing.

The moans from then were a double-edged sword – they felt so good still, but it would be a while before he could actually come again, so it was a torturous build-up. Still, his dick was valiantly trying to get hard again in tribute to Grog’s top-notch performance. Grog wasn’t holding him down anymore, so his hands were free to touch. They thumbed at his fascinating grey nipples, traced tattooes idly. He compared the size of his hands to Grog’s impossibly hard pectorals, marvelling at how they were eclipsed. “You are breath-taking, Grog.” The words were raspy. Maybe he’d been fucked so hard that Grog’s dick truly had reached his throat. 

But Grog still heard them, based on the bright smile on his face.

He came like a decanter of endless water, gushing inside Gilmore as if it would never end. Then he slumped forward and started snoring, nuzzling into Gilmore’s neck like he was a bear (well, a different kind of bear). He tried to stifle his laughter and let Grog sleep, only shifting a bit to pat him on the back for a job well done. 

Though, five minutes later, the impracticality of their current arrangement reared its head in the form of back pain. 

“Grog, wake up.” He could barely hear himself over the snoring. Gilmore tried shifting and giving him a light push to jostle him, but... well, there wasn’t actually that much counter, so Grog just rolled onto the floor with a thud. 

It worked, at least.

“Buh, rotisserie chicken?” Grog shook himself a bit and looked around, catching sight of Gilmore on the counter as he slid off. “Hey, Gilmore!” He stood, helping Gilmore stand when he didn’t trust his legs to support him. 

Gilmore rested his head on Grog this time, kissing the centre of his chest. “That was... the stuff of legends. I can’t thank you enough, but I can start by being a gracious enough host to show you to an actual bed.” He shuffled towards his back room, trying not to let Grog’s come gush out onto his floor as he considered whether to clean himself or his shop first. 

Grog grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Ready for round two, eh?”

“Oh, not tonight, I might literally die.” Gilmore waved his hand over the displays, watching as the glass melded back together with a purple glow. It was a start. He’d deal with the way the air smelled more like frantic sex than patchouli in the morning. He needed a vacation day anyway. “Come along, big boy. Time to sleep.” 

Still grinning, Grog threw an arm over Gilmore’s shoulder and dragged him past the beaded curtain. “You think I’m big now, wait ‘til I break out the Titanstone Knuckles.”


End file.
